


At the Edge of the End

by Atanih88



Series: At the Edge of the End [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-14
Updated: 2018-12-14
Packaged: 2019-09-17 22:27:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16982955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Atanih88/pseuds/Atanih88
Summary: Hinata doesn't expect to meet anyone out here. But things change.





	At the Edge of the End

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [Haikyuu bb?!](http://hqbb.tumblr.com).  
> Art by the lovely [amoxli](LINK) \- please check it out [here!!!](http://amoxli.tumblr.com/post/181098328606/drawn-for-my-very-first-hqbb-with-author) ♥ ♥ ♥
> 
> Thank you allyallykat for the beta. Please note that after allyallykat beta'd the fic, I ended up making a large chunk of changes, a lot of new scenes were added so all mistakes found are my own! I will be doing a second round of edits so apologies in advance.
> 
> The fic I've written differs a lot from the one I intended to write, for this, I apologise. I hope you can enjoy this anyway and hopefully you'll tune back in. I think these two deserve a little more than this. ♥

He's on the side of the road, partially hidden by grass long overgrown. It's tall enough now to almost fully obscure him from sight.

Dead leaves whisper over the ground as they roll, catching on bits of scrunched newspapers. Then the newspapers give in to the breeze too and they continue their path at the sweep of cold air current.

Stars stud the sky, so far away that they look like silver pins piercing through the velvet blue of the sky. The moon sits in the sky, a regal bright spot that shines down, illuminating everything in milky light.

An abandoned can rattles along the floor, scraping and bumping, skipping over debris only to lodge against the wheel of a long abandoned car. 

Hinata scans the long stretch of empty road—skips over the rusted over cars, focusing on the car windows that have long since become grimy, stained by rainfall, dust and blood. At least the smell is long gone. Or maybe the scarf is just filtering out the worst of it. 

Hinata readjusts his backpack, still hyper aware of his surroundings and steps out onto the main road. His night goggles are still in his bag. On a bright night like this, he doesn't need them. But that makes him nervous. If he can see better, it means _they_ can see better.

He needs to move quickly. He has three hours left before sunrise and he needs to find shelter by then. So he starts jogging, the weight on his backpack heavier than it was when he'd set out at evening dawn.

Under his breath, Hinata hums. 

There's a spring to his step that shouldn't be there considering how tired he is, how his bones creak and protest with every bounce of his weight as he continues in his light jog.

But Hinata has a goal in mind. 

The mountains. 

And maybe, just maybe, he can be safe. 

Unfortunately, to get to the mountains, he has to make it through the cities.

~

The radio Hinata has in his backpack is useful for a lot of things. Sometimes, he catches voices on it. Nowadays it makes him jump out of his skin because he can go months of walking and walking not hearing a thing and then all of a sudden he'll hear the crackle of the radio followed by garbled words or crystal clear voices. The voices ask if anyone is out there. The voices warn people away.

Hinata never says anything back. 

Sometimes, he'll be walking along in the night and he'll startle at the sound of his own voice. His throat will feel dry, so will his mouth. Swallowing is a difficult thing when the walls of his throat feel like they've been sealed together. It always takes him a little while to realise that he's been talking to himself. 

It scares him. 

Hinata always forces a smile onto his face and keeps walking. He replaces talking with humming. He tries not to think about the songs he hums. Where they came from. The sound of the voice that came with them. He's locked that far, far away and hidden the key. 

Hinata hums and keeps walking.

~

There aren't that many bodies.

Hinata thinks he’s finally reached Abandoned City. 

Abandoned City had evacuated when it all started, the only one that had managed to get sixty percent of its population out.

Hinata hadn’t realised he was so close.

It throws Hinata at first, except then he really thinks about it.

There wouldn't be bodies, would there? Because all the bodies had opened their eyes after death, gotten back up and started walking again, except without that thing. Whatever it had been that had made them human. 

Hinata knows there are bodies that didn't get back up.

He finds one in the small house. It's in this more isolated part on the edge of the city. He does a sweep of it, of its surroundings, eying up the tall grass that surrounds it. It can hide so many things. 

There's no smell now. It's been too long. The house is a deep inky black when he slips inside, katana a reassuring weight in his right hand.

She's on her side on the bed, curled in tight, her nightgown sinking into the bumpy hollows between bones. The knife that lies by her hands on the mattress is dull; no gleam to it, its blade caked in something that looks black under the sooty light of the oncoming dawn.

Hinata closes his eyes, breathes deeply and closes the door behind him. Quietly. The small house is empty of anything but Hinata and the woman behind the closed door of the bedroom. That doesn't mean that the others aren't near enough to hear.

Never assume.

So he goes through his pre-day check. He makes sure the curtains are drawn over the windows, makes sure the doors are locked and uses old musty blankets as door stoppers, uses them to drape over the ground floor windows, secures them with pegs he finds tucked away neatly inside a storage compartment in the kitchen.

As the light outside begins to grow stronger than the night, Hinata sets his things down on the floor. He'll sleep with the sofa at his back, to keep himself as far from the window level as possible, just in case the blankets fall and his shape is visible through the curtains.

Winter has settled now. He takes the remaining extra blankets and after a pause, he faces the direction of the bedroom and bows deep from the waist down. 'Thank you,' he says, barely above a whisper.

He takes a cushion from the sofa for a pillow and covers himself, wrapping himself up in the thick blankets that smell musty from not having been aired in so long.

Light begins to filter through the window. It doesn't fully penetrate the room but outlines the shapes of the windows around the hanging blankets.

It's then that Hinata notices the photo frames, the light now enough that he can make out the smiling face of a dark haired woman. He looks away before he can make out the full details of her features. His throat feels tight as he digs out his radio and puts the volume on the lowest setting it can go.

Not that he's ever answered.

It's been so long though, since the radio has crackled with any sign of life that Hinata wishes someone would say something.

He doesn't remember what someone else's voice sounds like.

Hinata stares at the radio.

'This time I'll say something back, I promise,' he says.

Hinata falls asleep tucked under the blankets, one hand resting on his katana and the other pressing the radio to his chest.

He dreams of a smiling dark haired woman sitting down at the edge of a bed. She's staring at Hinata, smile still fixed on her face as she holds her wrist out and begins cutting with the knife.

Hinata snaps awake to the deadly quiet of the house and the sound of the wind whistling over the house.

~

He avoids hotels and tries not to think about them altogether; the promise of a comfortable bed and warm sheets to wrap up in is too much of a temptation.

Hotels, restaurants, shopping centers.

The Others are drawn to these places, as if somehow they remember that they used to enjoy these things in their past life. 

It's easier to find shelter in the small towns. In the city, it's different.

Bodies are still rare. The only dead people that stayed dead are those who died before the zombies got to them.

That’s another thing Hinata doesn’t think about. 

Hinata feels the aches in the arches of his feet, the strain in the soft pads that press into the ground before his toes. His thighs and calves feel as if they're carrying double their weight, his knees are unsteady. His lower back throbs with the burden of carrying his things for too long. 

He needs to find a place and soon. 

He can't see it but he can feel it, the sunrise. Oh, he can't feel its heat, or even spy its light. But he can feel it in the way the hairs on the back of his neck and arms begin to stand on end, in the way his stomach begins to twist in on itself and panic begins to scrape, like a cruel sharp nail at his nape. 

Back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. 

Still. He forces himself to keep to his pace. Making too much noise is a mistake he can't afford to make. 

He picks his way through the street. The buildings here rise high up into the sky.  
Hinata used to stare up in awe at buildings like these every time his mum took him into the city. He'd tilt his head back as far as it could go and skip alongside her, feeling as if he were swimming. 

Now, he feels their height looms over him and their windows stay black and empty, broken glass reflecting the sky. They're too big, filled with too many rooms and Hinata can't see what's inside. He doesn't know what might be in there. 

Paranoia makes it feel like a hundred eyes watch him. Fear coils, dark and tight around his insides. 

Hinata clutches tighter at the straps of his bag, keeps his head low and his eyes alert. 

Being small has its perks. Not that Hinata used to think so before— 

Before. 

It means he only has to duck down a little to keep himself from standing out too much. His outer clothes are all black, always in black. It makes it easier to blend into the night. Just another shadow. The scarf is a dark, dark green that may as well be black itself and it covers up his hair. 

Hinata stops. 

A wind sweeps past, tugging at his scarf and he holds it in place, hand over his mouth. The fabric presses into the skin around his mouth, damp from the heat of his breaths. 

He needs to find somewhere soon. The cold has made itself at home in his marrow and even if the sun is coming up soon, all it'll bring with it is more cold.  
The whistle of the wind sounds high and Hinata almost jumps. It blasts at him. The edge of his scarf comes free and snaps out, rippling like it's coming alive. But despite the way his heart has jumped into his throat, he's found what he needs to. 

Moving quickly, he crosses the street, his neck starting to feel sore from the tension that's piling into the line of his shoulders. But he stays alert, eyeing any movement in the shadow that he can see. 

It's risky going into smaller alley-like roads, but then again, putting one foot in front of the other in this world is risky. And Hinata has already wasted too much time staying put, waiting and waiting for a miracle to happen. It never did.

VETERINARY CLINIC

The words are written in blue along the top of the building. The sign is grimy, having gone so long without cleaning. Hinata can still make out the illustration of a Shiba-inu licking a cat on the nose. For some reason, it makes Hinata feel better.

He approaches the door cautiously. The door doesn't give under his hand and Hinata sighs. 

That's good. 

Mindful that he doesn't have very long left, he searches for a back entrance to the clinic and finds it in a smaller, darker, dead-end alley. He's grateful for the cover of the dark. He's not as happy about the dead end though. 

Working quickly, he shrugs off his bag. His heart beats harder against the walls of his chest but Hinata doesn't let himself think about it as he works. He'd never thought he'd be breaking into places on a regular basis. He's just glad that he's learned how to do it. He thinks about all those days he would have had to wander in broad daylight, a sun painted target 

The lock gives. 

The mouth of the alley way is still empty. 

Hinata turns back to the door in front of him. He takes a deep breath. 

The door eases open on silent hinges. Hinata steps inside and is enveloped by the smell of antiseptic. Glancing quickly behind him, he closes the door. 

Inside, the building is quiet. The room he's in is filled with crates and there's a large island in the middle. He eases his backpack back onto his shoulder, locks the door behind him and continues further inside. 

From outside, it looked like a small building and it is. 

There's another room, as clean as the one Hinata has just come from, was probably where they would operate on the animals. It's unusual to find places like this that have been cleaned from top to bottom. Dust has settled everywhere, but that's all it is. No animals had been left behind here. Hinata hadn't realised how worried he'd been about finding dead animals until he finds the clinic free of them. 

In the back of his mind, thoughts of small animals left in crates to fend for themselves had been playing like images flicking on by a projector. 

Hinata chooses to settle down in the front room. 

The double doors to the main entrance are made entirely from glass but that's the only point of visibility from outside. There's a small bathroom in the hallway between the backroom Hinata had entered through and the main reception area. The counter at the front is tall, almost coming up to Hinata's shoulders. There is a comfortable desk chair on wheels there and a space underneath the desk. Along the wall opposite the counter, on the same side as the door, are a row of seats and an old small, square table with magazines. 

Just to be on the safe side, Hinata closes the doors to the other rooms but doesn't lock them. He brushes his teeth quickly in the bathroom; surprised that water actually comes out. He does it in the dark and quickly strips down to wipe himself down with a cloth and water so cold that it feels as if it's burning his skin. He dresses quickly once he's done. 

Before he settles down, Hinata risks getting closer to the front door. 

Pink creeps in to the sky. 

He tests out the door and when it stays firmly shut, he goes behind the counter, yanks out his flimsy thin blankets and makes a meagre bed for himself. He tucks his backpack beneath his head and tugs the chair back so that it's covering his head and curls up. 

His eyes fix on the wall opposite. The wallpaper is rows and rows of the same happy dog and cat that adorn the sign outside. 

The sun begins to cast light on the wall over the counter. He takes a deep breath, closes his eyes and curls in tighter.

That morning, Hinata stares hard at the radio in his hand. 

He’s clenching it so hard it cuts into the web of his hand. He squeezes his eyes shut and pulls in calm breaths. His heart is thudding like it's trying to burst out of his chest, almost as bad as when an Other crosses his path.

He steadies himself. When he presses the button, he does it hard enough that it hurts.

‘I’m here. Is there anyone out there?’

He releases the button and listens, radio pressed to his forehead, eyes still shut. His ears throb and his whole body is stiff as he waits, like he’s balanced on a thin edge, unsure which way he wants to fall. He doesn’t know what he’ll do if someone replies. He doesn’t know what it’ll mean to him if someone doesn’t.

He waits.

He waits a little more.

Silence.

Hinata squeezes his eyes shut harder and gasps in air, curls in on himself, radio digging into his chest. When he comes back to himself, the back of his hand is wet. His eyes feel sore and swollen against the veil of his eyelids and his chest hurts. He makes himself even smaller, the flimsy blanket not making any difference to the cold seeping into his joints, swirling around his ankles and the nape of his neck. His breath finally stops hitching and he slips into sleep, mind escaping as the wind carries the song of the undead high. 

It's another hour or so, maybe longer—he doesn't bother looking at the watch on his wrist, and it ran out of battery a long time ago—before he hears it. 

His blood runs cold and it feels like acid is pouring out into the pit of his stomach.  
The sound they make is always the same, caught between hiccups and rasps. 

Hinata squeezes his eyes shut and tries to sleep.

~

It's been weeks since Hinata has seen one so close to him, let alone two.

The sight of them kicks fear into his throat, leaves his stomach feeling hollowed out. His legs are unsteady beneath him.

Hinata tightens his grip on the hilt of his katana. They're walking down the middle of the wide stretch of the road in their odd disjointed way. They bump against the edges of an open car door—the first time it happens, Hinata winces, heat stopping at the sudden panic of a car alarm blaring to life and drawing every Other in the city to this spot.

Nothing happens. The car stays silent. The dead carry on.

From the back they look like people who are just lost, their steps slow, their nose stuck in the air, turning this way and that, as if looking to the sky for some clue of where they are. One of them has a dragging limp, the side of his foot rasping over the ground. It lost its shoe a long time ago. The rest of its clothes are stained and dishevelled but not in too much of a bad shape. It's probably one of the earlier bites. The later ones had been—messier.

The Other in front of it doesn't look like it had been as lucky. It walks upright, no limp, just slowly. Its naked body looks unnatural in the night. Its left arm ends in a jagged stump just above the elbow.

Hinata doesn't budge, grateful that the wind washes over him, the current coming from the same direction as the Others. He's not sure how good their sense of smell is. He doesn't want to find out any time soon. His heart thundering in his ears, Hinata stays tucked away behind a knocked over motorbike. He doesn't go near the cars. Some, the ones with their doors open, are clearly empty, but they're crammed between other rows of cars. Hinata calls them grabbers in his head. People who got bitten but got in their car and tried to outrun the infection. Some of them died inside their cars.

Others know how to make a beeline for the living. They don't stop coming for you once they lock in on you. They'll break their faces on glass trying to get through to you. They can't open doors though, Hinata doesn't think they have enough precision for small-targeted movements like that. But just because they're trapped inside a car doesn't mean they aren't able to jam their arm through the gaps of the car windows, dirty, rotting, ragged nails scraping at any part they can reach.

It's happened too many times for Hinata to brave the open road.

Despite feeling safer in the open spaces of the main road where threats are more easily spotted, Hinata darts a look at the narrower streets leading that would lead him to even narrower back roads.

The funny thing is, he can't even move just then.

He feels rooted to the spot, the certainty that the second he moves they'll be n him breathing down the back of his neck as if an Other is standing right behind him. That thought has Hinata snapping his head around to double check, a hand coming up o cover the vulnerable nape of his neck.

There's nothing there.

Hinata casts one last look at the Others growing smaller in the distance.

It takes him another full minute before he finds the courage to move.

~

The evening dawns colder than the previous one.

The pavement is slick and frosted white, same for the cars that Hinata walks past. It changes the silence somehow, though he can't quite describe it. 

Clouds crowd each other in the sky and deepen the night. Hinata pulls out his night goggles. His eyes have adjusted well over time and the night is never completely black, but tonight it's as close as it's ever come. 

He needs to find a sport store. He's been without a bat for two weeks now and he's been lucky. Hinata doesn't think too deeply about how he lost the bat, just skirts around the memory like a little child skipping along the edge of a lake. He's aware though of the lightness of his pack. He'd had his last can of soup earlier this evening and his stomach feels as if it's folding in on itself. It means a visit to a food store. He avoids it as often as possible but he needs to do what he needs to do. 

That's part of his night's agenda. Gather more food. Maybe pick up a new bat. Maybe some manga if he can find any, to pass away the time. A new blanket would be good.

He skips along, hands curled into the straps of his backpack, the world spread in front of him in black and various shades of neon green. His feet balance precariously on the pavement's edge. His legs are still sore. He hasn't rested enough but the veterinary clinic isn't the kind of place where you can bunk down for long. Not enough escape routes, not enough obstacles between Hinata and anything that might want to make its way in. 

As the night goes on, the radio stays silent. The best find of the night is an old health food shop still sealed tight. 

This is where Hinata spends his second night in the city filling up on a bag of mixed nuts, scooping out sealed plastic jars of peanut and almond butter, and finding packets of raspberry sugar-free liquorice and most importantly jars of vitamins. He eyes them as he bunks down for the day in one of the storage room, door firmly locked behind him. The only problem with these is that they're going to make too much noise whenever he takes so much as a step.

~

‘Hey. Are you still there?’

Hinata freezes.

He’s in the middle of a supermarket aisle, scanning through the vestiges of things left behind by a panicked people.

His first reaction is to panic—panic that the sound has carried too far, panic that an Other will be close by and draw others to it, to him. He yanks off his bag and kneels on the dust-covered floor. He avoids the dribs of packages and plastics that were left on the floor and carefully sets his katana next to him, close enough to reach should he need it.

He holds on to the radio, fingers clamped around it even as he feels the fine tremors wrecking his limbs. He turns the volume down, movements slow and deliberate, his eyes wide on the device in his hand.

For a moment he can’t move, just kneels there the floor of the supermarket icy cold beneath his knees, silvery clouds forming inches away from his mouth. The cold is everywhere. It coats the inside of his throat, of his lungs.

The voice—Hinata feels like he can hear its echo—sounded young even through the crackle of static. Young. And tired. Despite the question its posed across the radio waves, the voice doesn’t sound like he’s expecting anyone to reply, doesn’t expect there to be anyone on the other side of the transmission.

Static pours out of the radio again. Hinata jerks.

‘I think they’ll be inside soon.’

Hinata blinks. Those words sinking in. He sought out the familiar weight of his katana, curling his fingers around the smooth hilt of it. He pulls it up and presses the katana to his chest. He presses the side button and speaks.

‘I’m still here.’

The silence that follows is louder than any other that Hinata can remember. It feels almost as bad as the silence of his and his mother’s apartment.

Then the static comes again. ‘Hey.’

Hinata’s eyes smart and his mouth curves into a trembling smile.

‘Hey.’

~

Hinata holes up as the day begins to dawn.

He takes a stupid risk. He grabs all the batteries he can find and stuffs them into his bag, not thinking clearly. That space in his bag was meant to be filled with food and other necessities, but his head is filled with that voice. They hadn’t spoken spoken more than a few words to each other. In fact, Hinata wanders in the back of his mind if he hadn’t just imagined the whole thing.

After greeting the other person, his senses had come back to him.

He’d been standing in the middle of an open floor plan where an Other could’ve happened upon him at any time.

‘Wait—just, wait! I need to find somewhere to settle for the day. Can you—are you—please wait?’

Then he waits, tense, the quiet scraping at his nerves, making him bounce on the balls of his feet, eyes scanning the length of the aisle, searching out the slightest shift of the shadows.

And then—

‘Yes. It’s not like I have anywhere else to be.’

~

He finds one of those places that he doesn't find very often: a contender for a multiple night stay. They're tough to find, since insulation in the Winter is non-existent and most places seem to absorb the cold and trap it inside.

Hinata pokes his head into the store, hand keeping the door open as he leans in to look. It's a furniture store. The door is nondescript, the inside looking as rustic as the outside. He stops for a moment, ears straining for any noise that might mean he needs to get out quickly. He hears nothing but the sound of the icy breeze rustling his hair and the sounds of the building settling.

Easing his way inside, Hinata closes the door quietly behind him and stops with his back pressed against it, blinking his eyes and waiting for them to adjust to the new darkness.

It's a small cramped space. Back when it was open, Hinata imagines it would have been difficult for customers to move around. If the shop had ever been full anyway. 

Hinata moves further in. 

Hinata thinks he has maybe two or so hours until sunup. 

He casts one last look around and ventures deeper into the crowded room. Tugging the goggles away from his face, he leaves them strapped to his head, ignoring the tight straps digging into the skin behind his ears and the sharp tug of it on stray hairs. 

Taking his time, he eases his backpack off and drops it onto the corner of a sofa that's he's already thinking of sleeping on. It's been a while since Hinata's slept on anything other than hard ground and although it's a small store, Hinata feels spoiled for choice right now.

It's a nice feeling. He doesn't get it very often anymore. 

Humming the familiar song under his breath, he weaves between the pieces of furniture, trailing his fingers along the back of a wooden chair, rubbing his thumb into upholstery, not minding the dust coating his skin from it. 

Maybe he'll even have some semi-warm soup before he sleeps. He's got a set of new lighters too. It's hard to warm it up properly because Hinata can't hold the flame for too long. His thumb always cramps. Still. It'll be nice. A comfy place to sleep, his soup and that manga he hasn't had a chance to start yet. He sighs, a small smile curving his mouth as the sound of his humming fills the small space.  
That's when he spots it. 

His mouth falls open, eyes grow wide and an unreasonable joy sets his heart beating as he spots the pretty kotatsu still set up for display. He snaps his mouth closed, pressing a hand to it because something in his chest twists.

Hinata does his checks and moves his things to set them down beside the kotatsu instead.

He picks up the radio again only when he’s sure that everything is locked and no one will get in without him hearing it. He tucks himself under the kotatsu, which even without the heater, feels like a comfort as the duvet settles over him. 

‘Are you there?’ Hinata keeps his voice as hushed as possible. He’s buried under the kotatsu, so eager to hear that person’s voice again that he skips the precious time it would’ve taken him to heat his soup and instead munches on the remaining nuts he has.

‘You found a place?’

Hinata closes his eyes in relief. ‘Yeah, it should be okay for now.’ He remembers the words the other guy had said earlier. ‘How close are they?’ he asks.

‘I think I have a few days.’

Hinata can almost hear the other guy’s shrug. ‘You can’t leave?’

A pause. ‘It’s not that simple.’

Hinata blinks his eyes up at the ceiling, traces the shadows with his eyes. The lump in his throat is ridiculous. He doesn’t know this person.

Because you can’t play the hero. No one does that. It’s against the rules of this new world.

The guy on the other side doesn’t as him of it, waits instead until Hinata, blinking away tears, holds his button down again. His voice is thick from the emotion clogging up his throat. ‘I’m Hinata.’

‘I’m Kageyama.’

‘Is it okay if we talk for a bit?’

Hinata thinks that Kageyama snorts but maybe that’s just the static. ‘Yeah,’ and then, quieter, all amusement gone, ‘thanks.’

They talk for most of the morning. 

It’s stilted and awkward but Hinata forges on, asks any questions that come to mind, no matter how stupid. For Kageyama’s part, his answers are short, almost like he’d rather be doing anything else. Except clearly, he doesn’t. He wouldn’t be talking to Hinata otherwise.

His full name is Kageyama Tobio and he’s eighteen like Hinata, which Hinata finds funny. It turns out that he’s been making his way on his own too. It sounds like he’s been on his own for a long time. He’s stayed on the quiet roads, the back roads, stopping during the day, moving through the night. Kageyama’s weapon of choice is his bow and arrows. That makes Hinata laugh. Kageyama sounds like that kind of guy. 

Hinata doesn’t ask Kageyama about his family or his friends and Kageyama doesn’t ask him either.

Hinata guesses it’s nearing about eleven in the morning when he works up the nerve to ask.

He swallows on a dry throat. The kotatsu is sealing him in warmth and it’s nice not to be cold for once. He doesn’t want to move to get his water bottle.

‘Kageyama?’

‘What?’

‘Are you in the Abandoned City too?’

It takes Kageyama a little bit longer to answer, static sounding from the radio in short bursts. ‘Yes.’ He doesn’t sound surprised at the question or by the knowledge that they’re in the same city. He doesn’t elaborate.

‘Kageyama, where are you?’

Kageyama is quiet again and Hinata tries to picture him. A guy like him, trapped somewhere. Waiting.

‘Does it matter?’ Kageyama says. ‘It’s approaching midday. You should sleep. You’ll need it if you’re going to move tonight. Sleep well.’

‘Wait!’

Static. ‘Yes?’

‘Can we—can we talk again tomorrow?’

Static. ‘Yes.’

Hinata turns onto his side, pulls his knees in close to his chest. ‘Stay safe, Kageyama.’ It’s probably a stupid thing to say, but Hinata’s got nothing else.

‘You too.’

~

They do.

Kageyama makes it sound like he feels put upon but after the second time they talk. 

Hinata stays put just because now that he’s found a place where he can be warm for a little bit, he wants to soak as much of it up as possible. He won’t be able to do it for too long though. But the lure of someone else’s voice and a safe and comfortable space to sleep—however temporary it has to be—is too much of a lure.

Kageyama used to play volleyball. 

When Kageyama talks about it sounds like he’s remembering the feel of the ball in his palms. He always comes to an abrupt stop midway through his stories—midway through a jump, through a toss, through a game. 

Hinata thinks it’s a shame they hadn't known each other before. Hinata could've jumped high enough for Kageyama's tosses. He knows because he regularly pissed off Otawa every time they'd played basketball at school. Hinata always snatched that ball mid-air before Otawa could reach it. Every single time. 

Otawa had been twice Hinata's height. 

'I would've spiked everyone of your tosses.' 

It slips out one night. 

Kageyama falls silent. Then—

‘Don’t get cocky.’ 

Hinata smiles into the dark.

~

On the fourth night just as Hinata feels himself starting to slip into sleep, stomach not full, but warmer than usual from the semi-warm soup, Kageyama’s voice comes across, grave.

‘Hinata.’

‘Hmm?’

‘You can’t stay there again today. You need to move.’

Hinata doesn’t open his eyes. He wishes he could stay under the kotatsu forever.

He hasn’t told Kageyama. Doesn’t want to worry him but they’ve been circling closer each day. Hinata hears them even as he stays far away from the doorways and speaks to Kageyama only from underneath the kotatsu or the small tight bathroom in the back.

‘What about you?’ 

Kageyama doesn’t answer. ‘I’ve still got a few days.’

~

‘I like the dawn,’ Kageyama says.

‘You do?’ Hinata picks his way around a car blocking the middle of a side road. ‘I don’t. Not anymore.’

‘I like the colours.’

Hinata looks up at the dark, dark sky. It’s not a blanket of safety, though sometimes it feels like it. 

‘I like the stars.’

It’s definitely a snort this time. ‘You would,’ Kageyama says.

Hinata smiles.

~

‘I had a cat,’ Hinata says.

‘Oh?’ Kageyama says.

‘She was completely white with a black tail. ‘

‘What was her name?’

‘Reo.’

Static. ‘What happened to her?’

Hinata readjusts the weight of the backpack on his back. ‘I don’t know.’

~

Sometimes, Kageyama sounds like he’s in pain.

They’ve been talking for a week. A week of Hinata having to hole up and stay low. The Others pop up more often the deeper into the city he gets. They’re still not as many as Hinata has heard rampage through other cities. But it’s enough.

Hinata wants to ask. A suspicion has started to form in the back of his head. 

The disease spreads slowly sometimes. It always depends on the person, on their health, on their age, on how they became infected.

Kageyama doesn’t tell him.

Hinata doesn’t ask.

He doesn’t know if he can give up this person that who’s voice has become a safety net in the dark.

He thinks that on nights like these, where he can’t glimpse the naked sky, having Kageyama’s voice with him is better than all the stars put together.

Heart aching, and the sound of Kageyama’s gasp of pain still fresh in his mind, Hinata presses the button. ‘Kageyama?’

‘What?’ he sounds out of breath.

The question is on the tip of his tongue. ‘Tell me again about the story of when you won against the Great King.’

Hinata can almost hear the eye roll. ‘Stop calling him that.’

It’s enough to keep Hinata moving forward, even as the sadness begins to weigh on him, heavy and dragging.

He wonders if he hadn’t just traded the pain of loneliness for a different pain all-together.

~

It's one of those bright, clear nights, the moon cutting through the darkness with a startling whiteness that hurts Hinata's eyes when he looks up at it.

He comes out of the shop, ducking out carefully, trying to keep his katana from scraping against the jagged edges of the busted in door. 

The door had been badly broken a long time ago, a hole huge enough for someone of Hinata's size to squeeze through right at the bottom of it. 

Hinata pushes his bounty through first, getting down on his knees. He'd found a few things. Some peanut butter, three packets of instant noodles and mints. He’s standing, brushing himself down, already thinking of how long it would take him to find his next haunt for the day, thinking of how he’s going to tell Kageyama about what he’s found. He thinks he should ask Kageyama what his favourite food is. Maybe he’ll find it. Maybe Kageyama will tell Hinata where he is.

It’s the rasping hiccup.

Hinata goes cold all over. His body catches in fight or flight—poised on the edge, terror-squeezing strength out of him, paralysing him.

His jaw clenches and he lifts his gaze.

It’s already halfway across the road to him, hands already rising, fingers spread. He’s intact. He’d been a big man in his past. The sallow skin around its mouth is caked brown and its eyes are milky white. Its eyes are locked on Hinata. It opens its mouth and the noise, that rasping hiccup that sounds like it's choking, loud in the silent night. Out of the corner of his eye Hinata catches glimpse of one more—

Hinata feels fear scatter down his spine.

Two. Two more.

And he doesn’t move. His feet remain fixed to the spot. Just like in the nightmares he’d used to have as a child. 

_Move, I have to move, move, move, move._

His hands are useless at his side, the katana is strapped too tightly to his back. The time it takes him to get it free will be all the time they need to reach him. And once they reach him—he won’t—

He won’t be Hinata anymore.

He won’t be able to tell Kageyama—

The static makes him jump.

The movement seems to startle the Others. They pause, almost as one, like they’re confused. Except they don’t think, they can’t be confused. It’s just their instant reaction, the way they track once they’ve locked on their prey. They lock hard. 

‘Hin—‘

Kageyama’s voice through the static seems to be like a beacon. Hinata can make out a few more sneaking out of the shadows but Kageyama’s voice has flipped a switch. 

Hinata breaks into a run.

He steps on the treasures he’d gone through all the trouble to find. His backpack slaps against his back, its weight punching into the katana, grinding it into his spine as he runs but he doesn’t let it stop him. He doesn’t look back. He runs. He runs until the wind has frozen his face, until he can’t feel his lips and the tips of his ears burn with the fierce cold and deep inside their shells, it starts to hurt, a piercing pain that Hinata has to grit his teeth through as he runs and runs and runs.

They can’t run. But it’ll take a lot to make them lose track of him. 

It’s been a long time.

The sound of static follows him all the way, punctuated by brief words—maybe more than brief—Hinata ignores them all, even as in the back of his mind it helps him feel less alone, like if they get him, at least he’ll hear Kageyama. But he doesn’t let himself linger on that.

~

He makes it.

Hinata doesn’t know how, but he makes it.

He climbs up a set of emergency stairs, jumps, his arms barely holding his weight, and grunts and huffs, trying not to imagine what would happen if his grip slipped and he crashed back down. There’s a huge chunk of the stairs missing and they won’t be able to follow him up. He hoists himself up, arms trembling from the exhaustion. 

Dawn has arrived. The sky is pink. 

He can’t even hide from them in the dark.

Hinata slumps against the cold metal of the stairs and leans his back against the door. 

Kageyama had fallen quiet some time ago.

The Others stand, six of them now, all of them on the ground, their gazes staring up, arms held up as if ready to catch and rip Hinata to shreds should he fall. He turns away from their faces and pushes himself up with a grunt. He digs the radio out and switches it off. Can’t risk any noise.

His legs are shaking.

Hinata sets his bag down and ignores as the shakes spread.

He’s hot and sweaty under his clothes but the cold is starting to seep back in. His clothes are damp. His thighs hurt. His calves hurt. His fingers are so unsteady it takes him three times to untie the knot at his side. It takes him a while to start pulling it apart. His fingers are blocks of ice. He hadn’t noticed. 

He finally frees up his katana. He can’t stay out here and he doesn’t know what’s inside.

Hinata takes a deep breath, wrenches the door open and goes in. He pulls the door closed behind him.

~

The adrenalin fades.

It leaves him feeling burned out.

The place he’s managed to make his way into is a small contained home above a bowling alley.

Luck.

Pure, sheer, stupefying luck.

No dead bodies to haunt his sleep, and door locks that still work.

He wonders how he’ll get out of here. But right now all he can do is sleep. His body moves on automatic as he does his checks. He doubts that if an Other jumped out of him that he would have the strength to do anything. Maybe the Kami are watching over him, because nothing does.

In the back of his mind, he knows he needs to do something—eat? Drink? How long was he running for?—but his eyes shut and he melts into a bed that smells of too many days and nights spent empty.

~

Hinata comes to with the dying light of the evening splashed across his face.

He rubs his knuckles harshly into his eyes, body stiff as he pushes himself up, disorientated.

It takes him a while to get his bearings.

The shop. The food. The Others. The mad race through the streets and the desperate climb up the broken emergency stairs.

Kageyama.

_Shit! Kageyama!_

Hinata scrambles off the bed, face plants, cheek burning across a rug there but he’s back up on his feet before he can register it, trips again—his coordination is shot, muscles, fingers, knees like jelly—but manages to lock his hand around the handle of his backpack and jerks it close, digging in it for the radio and praying that the batteries aren’t dead, that he hasn’t lost any, that he can still get to Kageyama.

The static comes on, thankfully on a lower setting. Still, Hinata crawls into the bedroom, everywhere aching. He climbs back up on the bed, collapses again and presses the button.

‘Kageyama?’ 

No response.

Hinata presses his hand to his heart where it throbs. He tries again. ‘Kageyama? Please be there.’

Had they gotten to him? Had they finally reached him?

Kageyama always told him it was only a matter of time but he never gave Hinata more than that. He never tells Hinata if they’re on the other side of the building or if they’re right outside the door. 

Hinata tries again. ‘Kageyama, _please_.’ He presses his face into the musty pillow and the tears run hot, almost burning his skin before soaking into the pillow beneath. ‘Please, please, please,’ he sobs into the pillow. He’s not pressing the button anymore. He’s not sure who he’s pleading with or for. He’s so tired.

Static. ‘Hinata.’ A harsh gasp bleeds into the static. ‘ _Hinata _, you _moron_.’ __

__Hinata hears a sob._ _

__Kageyama’s crying._ _

__Hinata wraps an arm around himself and cries too. He wishes Kageyama were with him. Really with him._ _

__Hinata loses track of time. Maybe it’s five minutes later, maybe it’s half an hour. Maybe it’s longer. But eventually, Kageyama must let go of the button on his side. It’s brief though and when he comes back over the radio waves, his voice is steadier. Its hoarseness is harsh across the noisy channel._ _

__'Did they get you?’_ _

__Hinata shakes his head, even though there’s no one to see him. ‘No,’ he says, bites his lip to keep his voice from shaking, ‘but it’s the closest they’ve ever come.’_ _

__There’s a beat of silence._ _

__'Thank god.'_ _

__Hinata sniffles. He drags the sleeve of his coat across his nose. ‘Kageyama.’_ _

__'What?’ Kageyama’s voice sounds like it’s about to break down again._ _

__'Did they bite you?’_ _

___Please don’t ignore me this time, please don’t._ _ _

__'No.’_ _

__Hinata’s eyes flash open. He pushes himself up to sit up straight. ‘Then why—why—’_ _

__I’m hurt.’_ _

__The wall in front of him has little bears on it. The wallpaper is blue. Hinata realises he’s in a child’s room._ _

__Hinata forces the question out. ‘How hurt?’_ _

__'My ankle. It’s not healing right. I can’t put weight on it. My entire left arm—I think its dislocated.’_ _

__Hinata stares hard at the little bears, gnawing at the inside of his bottom lip. ‘Is your leg broken?’_ _

__'No.’_ _

__‘Where are they?’_ _

__'You can’t come here.’_ _

__Anger sparks, sharp and twisted and catching flame so quickly on the heel of fear so intense Hinata doesn’t even understand how it didn’t paralyse him. ‘I’ll find you. I’ll search every building. I’ll do it. Every night until I find you.’_ _

__'Shut up! You don’t know what you’re saying! I barely managed to block them up in the first floor, as soon as they get here it’s all over. Even if I manage to get out, I can’t outpace them!’_ _

__‘You can with _me_. Tell me. Please. Just tell me. Tell me so I can come for you. I want you to come with me, Kageyama. Let’s go to the mountains together. Please.’_ _

__This time Kageyama doesn’t answer._ _

__Hinata waits. And he waits. He calls his name into the radio and still nothing._ _

__He sinks back into the mattress, lets the radio rest on the mattress and just lays there, staring at the open doorway as it gets darker and darker, trying not to let his imagination get the better of him. He doesn’t look away from the doorway, can’t bring himself to close his eyes._ _

__The light is completely gone from the sky._ _

__The radio spits out its usual static. ‘What is it with you and these mountains?’ Kageyama’s voice sounds different. It sounds tired. It sounds unsure._ _

__Hinata stares at the radio and reaches out, brushes a thumb over its edge then drags it back over to his chest. He likes doing that because he can feel the vibrations of Kageyama’s voice against his chest when Kageyama speaks._ _

__The Others are probably still at the bottom of the building, waiting for him, just like the Others that are trapping Kageyama in wherever he is are still there, waiting._ _

__'If you die on your way to me, I’ll come find you and kill you myself.’_ _

__It doesn’t make sense. It makes no sense what so ever. Hinata doesn’t care. The smile creeps up on his face and this time when he cries, he’s laughing quietly into the mattress._ _

__When he speaks into the radio again, his voice is soft, carrying his smile with it._ _

__‘Okay.’_ _

____

~

It takes Hinata five days.

Five.

Two are wasted in trying to figure out a way out of the building without the Others catching on to him.

He manages on the third night—the kitchens at the back of the bowling alley downstairs. He finds it quite quickly, but he hears them outside. It takes him a whole day to figure out that they’re hearing the others and joining them at the front. He warns Kageyama, voice as hushed as he can make it, that he’s going to have to turn the radio off. He can’t afford for it to make the slightest noise. 

‘I’ll radio in when I’m safe. And then we’ll go from there.’

His katana is ready and he’s eaten the last of his food. He dreads stopping for more after his last attempt but it’s not something he has a choice about. Kageyama will need food too. Hinata has to make sure he gets there, and then he has to make sure they both get out.

Hinata slips out of the kitchen and he almost makes it out of the alley without an Other spotting him.

But this time there’s something else burning in Hinata’s veins. And his katana isn’t strapped to his back.

He thrusts his weapon. Not slash. Never slash. He braces his feet, angles and drives it up through the soft flesh beneath the china and up into the skull. It drops t his feet, a rotting puppet with its strings cut off.

Hinata hurries before he sees anymore.

That burning in his veins is going to have to last him until he reaches Kageyama.

~

High schools are some of the most disturbing things in the dark.

Hinata stands outside, staring at the huge block building spreading across the grounds.

The windows reflect the moon crescent. 

A back way. Hinata needs to find a back way. He’s always good at those.

Except when he sees them, he understands that there is no back way with this.

Kageyama had told him. Had told him that there were too many. Had tried to convince him to change his mind at least a dozen times but Hinata is and always be stubborn. 

Except as he stands there and sees them all, he realises that he had no concept, none, of what he he’d truly be facing.

They surround the high school, one huge rippling mass, the chorus of sound they make together makes Hinata’s hair stand on end and he feels the bile trying to work its way up his throat, his stomach revolting against this. He’s staring death right in the face and it makes him feel sick. But what makes it all even worse is the idea that he shouldn’t have promised Kageyama he would make it, because when faced with this, he realises that Kageyama won’t forgive him for dying. 

For leaving one of them alone.

He thinks of Kageyama crying when Hinata had gone silent, of the sound of the sobs he hadn’t been able to contain and allowed Hinata to listen to.

Shit. He’s screwed up. He’s screwed up so badly.

There’s no way he can make it past them all. Not without getting bitten or scratched, not without being dragged back.

Hinata slips back behind the tree, resting his head back against the rough bark, letting it bite against his scalp because the pain helps him pull away from the panic threatening to engulf him.

He breathes in deep, the smell of the trees surrounding him fresh and soothing.

Hinata freezes. He opens his eyes and stares up at the trees.

Trees.

The whole west side is surrounded by trees.

His heart starts beating and he doesn’t want to allow himself to hope as he lowers himself to the floor. He licks his lips, nerves drying his lips and mouth. He half expects an Other to charge out to the darkness at him, to destroy the little ray of hope flickering in his chest, too small for Hinata to trust in.

He has to root around, fingers groping blindly because he can’t risk trying to get any kind of light on it, has to keep behind the tree line as much as possible.

Hinata is ready to shout and throw his bag against a tree when his fingers finally slide over the smooth surface of the small object. The lighter tucks neatly inside his palm and he pulls it out. He’s careful, doesn’t want to drop it in the dark, the last thing he needs is to be on the ground in the pitch black cover of the trees searching to what would amount to a needle in a haystack.

He cups it in his hand to protect it from sight. He sends up a brief prayer. He flicks the lighter. A small flame burns to life.

Hinata breathes and lets it go out. 

It takes him a moment.

He can’t screw this up.

~

Hinata says another prayer for the trees and kneels down on the ground in apology and thanks, bowing deep.

Some would say he’s wasting time. But he needs to give thanks. What he’s about to do is—it doesn’t sit well with him but there’s no other choice.

Despite the cold of the winter, the flames catch. 

They catch quicker than he expected. Hinata makes sure to keep behind the line of fire so he’s not silhouetted against it. That’s all he needs and then he waits. He waits until the heat begins to prickle at his skin and make him sweat; until he has to cover his mouth and hold back his coughs.

Hinata waits until he sees them begin to turn one by one, and one by one make their way to the fire.

Only then does he run.

~

Hinata has to wait, wait until they clear out, mindless things emptying the building and following like the flames as they burst into life, consuming the trees around them. Hinata is having to choke down the coughs now, and one of his hands got too close when he’d had to wait a little too close to the spreading heat for the majority of them to go.

When he slips into the hallways of the high school, his eyes see spots, the sudden darkness against the effects of the brightness of the fire too much. But he forges on. He squints as he runs, keeping his eyes locked not the class numbers outside the doors, following the stairs up and up until he hits the second floor and rushes, breath too loud—he knows he’s being too loud—that if any Others are still there then he’s dead. Kageyama’s dead. 

The block Kageyama mentioned turn out to be desks on top of desks piled on top of one another at the stairs, a wreckage of them that the Others would have eventually made it past. For Hinata it’s easier to get past, but still a delay, as he has to drag them one after the other until he clears a path. He loses precious minutes there—at any moment, one of the Others could turn back around. Could be drawn by too much noise. But he grits his teeth and keeps moving, doesn’t think about limits, can’t afford to do that right then.

Eventually he gets impatient and powers through the last bulk, desk legs stabbing into his stomach, into his face, one scraping painfully over the skin of his throat. It’s a mercy compared to anything the Others would do if they got their hands on him.

Class 2A.

It’s all the way at the end of the corridor, a dead end that there’s no way anyone could escape from.

Hinata bursts in, they don’t have time—

He comes face to face with the quivering tip of an arrow and skids, falling back on his ass, his katana digging painfully into his back.

’Whoa—‘

The arrow lowers and a pale face comes into view. 

They stare at each other.

And despite the fire burning outside bright enough to light the inside of he high school, Hinata stares at Kageyama’s face. Because this is Kageyama, his stance uneven and grimacing from the weight of the arrow in his hand, but staring at Hinata like—like—

Kageyama smirks, a tense twist of his lips that can’t quite dispel the fear of what they’re doing. ‘You sounded like the kind of idiot who wouldn’t know stealth if it hit him in the face.’

Hinata blinks at him. Then he grins. Then he’s up and wrapping his arms around this stranger who has been his life line for so little time and yet feels like everything.

Hinata’s stars. 

He squeezes Kageyama tight and feels one arm come up to squeeze him back, tight around the waist.

But they don’t have that kind of time. This will do for now.

Hinata eases back and looks up at Kageyama. Because of course, Kageyama is ridiculously tall, even when he’s slumping from his injury. 

Kageyama already has everything strapped to his back and despite the pain stamped onto his face in the crease between his brows and the line of his mouth, the look of determination on his face is clear.

‘Let’s go.’

~

Hinata doesn’t know how they make it.

At one point Kageyama’s leg gives. Just gives. They’re still way too close and the flames are out of control now, eating up more ground than they’re covering. Hinata just hitches his arm around his shoulder and drags him; mouth tight with Kageyama’s weight.

‘If it hurts it means you can feel it, if you can feel it, it means you can walk on it. Now _walk_.’ 

Hinata never knew he had it in him to be such a hardass. 

But they make it out.

Both of them.

_They make it out._

~

They stop only at night and only when absolutely necessary. They clean up, they eat, they nap, and then they keep moving.

Hinata would’ve kept on going right on through if it weren't for Kageyama’s injuries.

Kageyama is still limping and Hinata doesn’t want to overdo it. Ironically, they don’t talk much.

Pain, exhaustion and emotional burn out will do that.

Finally they finally make it to the edge of the city.

They drag all their things into the corner office in an abandoned company building.

It’s a decent place. It’s a smaller room. There’s a huge photocopier machine tucked up against the wall. The top of it is soft with a thick bed of dust. There’s a desk tucked up by the window and filing cabinets tucked around the other end.

The corridor is icy cold. 

The light that filters through the blinds is weak, the street lights not enough to light up the corridor in the early hours of the morning. Somehow, the pre-dawn darkness feels like it makes the cold worse and Hinata feels chilled to the bone. Every breath he takes manifests in puffs of white before dissipating as quickly as it has formed. 

They’ve checked the whole building already. It’s made up of four floors and the corner room they’ve picked has a set of fire exit doors with stairs leading down onto the street below. Though, if they have to make a run for it in the night-time, it won’t do them much good. The Others will be out in droves.

Hinata checks the last room on their floor, hand tight on the katana in his hand, squatting down low to peer beneath the desks and behind cabinets, eyes searching out every corner of the room before feeling assured that nothing hides in there. He shuts the door behind him anyway, just in case.

Kageyama stands in the doorway of their chosen spot for the day. He stands despite the leg, eyes fixed on the end of the hall, mouth pressed into a thin tense line and shoulders wide, like he’ll be able to intimidate anything that decides to turn up. He’s got his bow in hand and an arrow loosely held in the other, though he can’t do much with it. The arrow he’d pulled on Hinata had made the damage to his arm worse. Still. Kageyama holds on to it. Just in case. 

‘Clear?’ Kageyama asks, voice low, eyes still pinned somewhere behind Hinata.

Hinata nods and moves quickly down the corridor to join him. ‘Yeah. All clear.’  
‘Okay. Come on. We need to block this before it gets too light outside.’ 

Hinata’s puffy parka sounds loud in the eerie silence of the building and he hurries the last few steps. Even though he knows Kageyama has his back and that there’s nothing in any of the rooms behind him, his back feels like an open target. 

Slipping inside the room, he does a double take at the changes Kageyama has made. 

Their bedrolls, which Hinata had picked up along the way, are on the floor, rolled out and pushed together, their two threadbare blankets layered one on top of the other. Their backpacks are set at the top of them. 

They aren’t much. But they’re enough to make Hinata smile a little even as he wraps his arms around himself, rubbing at his arms to try and get some warmth into them. 

The door clicks shut and Hinata snaps back to attention. 

Together, they push two of the cabinets so they block the door. They each pick up a side and grunt because paper weighs a lot when it’s packed tightly into wide five drawer cabinets. They can’t risk sliding it across the floor. 

Just in case. 

They do the same with the second and only then does Hinata feel like he can stop for a second. 

There’s a window in here too, the blinds the same as the ones that had lined the windows in the corridor. Its blades have become grey from being unattended for so long. 

The dark outside is beginning to change, the smallest touches of purple beginning to reach out across the sky. From where they are, it looks as if the sun is hiding behind the buildings.

Kageyama is carefully setting his bow and arrows down. There’s a reverence in the way he handles the bow that is more than respect for the instrument that’s saved his life. Hinata wants to ask but he’s not sure if Kageyama will just bite his head off if he does. 

Hinata doesn’t realise he’s just standing there standing until Kageyama straightens and narrows his eyes on him. ‘What?’ 

‘Nothing, nothing!’ he turns around and shrugs off his coat too. 

He thinks that maybe it’s too late to mention that Kageyama is beautiful. 

Despite the layers Hinata has on, the cold settles quickly. He should get used to it, since it would only get colder from now on. He pulls his sweater off over his head and folds it neatly. The warmth from the piece of clothing is gone by the time he’s set it on top of the cabinet. Hinata unbuttons the four buttons of the fitted long sleeve he had on beneath and tugs that off too, folding that and setting it on top of the sweater. 

Hinata chances taking off his trousers but swaps them for his sweats. If he has to make a run for it in the night, he’s not doing it with his legs out in the freezing cold. He leaves his t-shirt and undershirt on. Still. By the time he slides in beneath his sleeping bag, his teeth have started to chatter. 

Kageyama does the same, shrugging into his sweats. He leaves his hoodie on though as he tucks himself into his side. He’s still got his bedroll open when he pauses in sliding further down into it. 

Hinata is curled in on his side now, arms wrapped around himself. He’s clenching his teeth but a chatter escapes now and then, loud in the quiet. 

Kageyama stares at him for a long time. 

‘Kageyama?’ 

Kageyama looks down at their makeshift bed, then back at Hinata’s face. 

Then not meeting Hinata’s eyes, he lifts both blankets, making Hinata hiss as even losing those flimsy blankets with their holes and stitched corners coming undone, he feels the difference. 

Hinata squeezes his eyes shut and reminds himself that he helped Kageyama get better. That having him around is kinda nice after being alone for so long. Even if Kageyama is an asshole. It wouldn’t be a good idea to punch his new friend in the face. 

‘Kageyama,’ he forces out through clenched teeth, ‘what are you--’ 

Kageyama’s hands make quick work of unzipping Hinata’s bedroll further. 

‘Hey!’ Hinata hisses, eyes snapping open-- 

Only to shut up as the blankets set over them both and arms wrap around him, pulling his face into the thick warmth of Kageyama’s hoodie. Kageyama fits himself to Hinata, pressing his length all along Hinata’s body. He shifts around some more, the blankets letting in little fissures of cold that slide down along Hinata’s nape and make him shiver--except his chest and stomach are a bloom of warmth now. 

Hinata stares unseeingly at Kageyama’s chest. 

Kageyama shifts one last time, bringing the blankets tighter around them. 

‘This okay?’ Kageyama mutters. It ruffles Hinata’s hair. 

Slowly, Hinata brings up his arms, careful not to dislodge the blankets. When he wraps them around Kageyama, Kageyama feels so warm and so solid beneath them. 

Hinata swallows and closes his eyes. He tightens his arms around Kageyama even as he feels the sting behind his eyelids. 

‘Yeah. Thanks.’ 

He hears Kageyama’s heartbeat, steady and comforting beneath him. 

He came so close to not knowing this.

‘So, the mountains?’ Kageyama asks. Kageyama shifts around again and this time, he fits his hand to the back of Hinata’s back, thumb sweeping gently. 

Hinata feels a small pressure on the crown of his head and the warmth of Kageyama’s breath. The heat of a blush starts low on Hinata’s throat and starts burning its way up his face. He likes that.

Maybe when they’re not so tired, Kageyama will kiss him somewhere else instead.

They’re both too exhausted now.

Hinata buries his head in Kageyama’s chest.

‘Yeah. The mountains.’

‘Okay.’


End file.
